


Grocery Shopping

by Bioluminex



Series: Reed900 Collection [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gavin is an idiot, Gavin is seriously testing RK900's last wire, Grocery Shopping, It's a wonder he puts up with him, M/M, One Shot, RK900 is called Nines in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 20:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18171335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bioluminex/pseuds/Bioluminex
Summary: For Gavin, going to the grocery store has always been a simple one-two: Buy the shit he needs, and leave. Always. He isn't about to change up his shopping experience, or shop by the flyer for the deals of the week, or whatever other people do. He isn't other people. He is Gavin Reed, and when he needs coffee and toilet paper, he goes and buys it wherever the fuck he wants.Then there was that one time he made the mistake of bringing Nines with him.





	Grocery Shopping

For Gavin, going to the grocery store has always been a simple one-two: Buy the shit he needs, and leave. Always. He isn't about to change up his shopping experience, or shop by the flyer for the deals of the week, or whatever other people do. He isn't _other_ people. He is Gavin Reed, and when he needs coffee and toilet paper, he goes and buys it wherever the fuck he wants.

 

Then there was that one time he made the mistake of bringing Nines with him.

 

It could've been an ordinary experience of grabbing what he needed and returning home to slouch on the couch with his phone for the rest of the afternoon, but oh no. It begins as they're crossing the parking lot after circling the lot five damn times for a spot, with Nines' crystal-clear optics honing in on the enormous fifty percent off sale signs (on select items).

 

“Gavin, the store is having a sale.”

 

“So?”

 

“It would be beneficial to purchase the items you require based on their sale price.”

 

Gavin shrugs, not bothering to respond because he assumes the android will simply let go of it. They stroll in, Gavin collects a basket from the stack and hands it to Nines.

 

“I am not a personalized shopping assistant…” he begins to complain, but Gavin is already through the automated doors and wheeling for the coffee aisle. Nines plods along behind, head swinging to and fro as he takes in as much of the store as possible.

 

“I have never been inside a grocery store,” Nines informs Gavin, catching up to walk at his left shoulder, as he customarily tends to do. “There are large quantities of food. Shouldn't we look-"

 

“I only need a few things, okay? I can't afford all that shit,” he answers brusquely.

 

“But according to the sale, and my calculation of your earnings, you would be able to-"

 

Gavin swings around, forcing Nines to halt abruptly. “I don't give a shit about the sale, okay? I order take out when I’m hungry.”

 

“The health benefits of a balanced diet in compliance with your role as a police detective-"

 

Gavin rolls his eyes and turns away, ignoring the android spewing advice he stopped listening to as an eight-year-old. He passes a table stacked with crates of oranges, and his stomach gurgles in response; breakfast was a measly slice of burnt toast, plain, scoffed quickly with lukewarm coffee. Maybe if he buys a few pieces of fruit, Nines will shut the hell up.

 

Plucking a ripe orange from the pile, he squeezes it lightly and lifts it to his nose. Seems alright. He beckons Nines nearer and drops it into the basket, and searches for another. Nines tilts his head, watching the detective curiously.

 

“Why are you doing that?”

 

“Doing what? You gotta smell it to make sure it's ready to eat,” Gavin adds another to the basket. Nines nods, then selects an orange to mimic his partner, and Gavin bats it out of his hand; a few wobble and fall to the floor, rolling beneath the table. “Don't do that!” he hisses, pricking with embarrassment as he makes sure no one is watching, and nudges one of the oranges away. Out of sight, out of mind.

 

“Detective, you just concluded telling me-"

 

“Tin can, you can't _smell_. It's fuckin' weird,” he grouches, storming away from the orange table and continuing on his mission for coffee.

 

He finds the aisle, swinging into it more from memory than actually looking, and lifts a large canister of dark roasted coffee grounds from the shelf to deposit in the basket, but pauses on open air. Nines is six feet away, reading the price tags on a discounted brand.

 

“Gavin, this coffee is reduced in price for the sale. It would be a better choice to purchase two of these for the price of one of what you are currently holding.” Nines points a long white finger at the shelf, stacked with Maxwell House. Gavin makes a face, dropping his can of Folgers into the basket.

 

“Don’t like it.”

 

“Is this a matter of preferences?” he raises a dark brow intuitively.

 

“Yup. C’mon, I need toothpaste and razors.”

 

The toothpaste he normally buys is out of stock, and Nines gleefully deposits two packages of the same brand but in a smaller size (reduced in price) into the basket, metallic eyes bright with victory. He does mention how the baking soda formula would help brighten Gavin's teeth, considering he being a coffee drinker, but the detective is already in front of the razors.

 

He reaches for the disposable four blade pack, ignoring the price tag, and just as he hoped he wouldn't, Nines pipes up.

 

“That is a waste of money, Gavin. If you are keen on using disposable razors, you should buy the single blade alternative.”

 

“I prefer a close shave, thanks. You wouldn't know anything about that, huh?” he glances pointedly at the android's smooth, hairless jawline. “Let me buy what I want, okay?”

 

The next aisle is the last item on Gavin's mental list, and he shoulders on past Nines, fed up with having to argue with the android about every purchase. Hoping to make it there before he can hear one more quip, Gavin snatches the package of three-ply six rolls from the middle shelf, stuffing it under his arm, snickering as he walks up the aisle (hoping to evade the tin can entirely until they make it to the checkouts).

 

Rounding the corner, he slams face first into a terribly familiar black and white jacket.

 

Nines' wintery gaze latches onto the bundle beneath Gavin's arm, and says, with that infuriatingly cool voice of his, “Regardless of my opinion, offered only to provide insight, you continue to make decisions in poor hindsight. It is no wonder you haven't made lieutenant yet. Listening to your peers would be the first step in progressing forward, rather than remaining trapped in the same cycle.”

 

Insulted, Gavin gets his back up, blistering with annoyance. “Look, toaster, I’m a very simple guy who doesn't like to be hassled about what I eat, what I wear, and most of all, what I buy with _my_ money. It's my life, so stop fuckin’ pretending you can control it! It's the other way ar-"

 

Abruptly, before the rest of the words can escape his lips, he clamps his mouth shut and flushes deep red. _Oh, fuck_.

 

It's too late, however, and Nines’ expression has gone from subtly exasperated and amused at his partner's outburst, to a black fury Gavin's rarely ever seen on him. His eyes are bitterly cold, enraged and, worst of all, hurt.

 

“I was a fool to believe you had outgrown your primitive views on my kind. It seems I was wrong,” Nines says softly, shoving the basket into Gavin's arms with a little more force than necessary. “I will be waiting in the car.”

 

With that, the android spins on his heel and marches away, pace brisk. It's all Gavin can do to watch him leave, stomach in knots. “Shit,” he mumbles, feeling like a complete ass, and rightfully so.

 

Roaming up and down different aisles, Gavin combats the sick feeling swelling up, hot and rancid, in the back of his mouth. He doesn't do well handling guilt, and for a while tries to convince himself Nines started it, that the android dug at him about rank, that the android _instigated_ the fight.

 

But he's not that much of a complete idiot; from the moment they arrived, Nines continuously tried to make valid points about his buying habits, attempting to convince him to make purchases worthwhile and easier on his bank account, instead of feeding into the wasteful behaviour all humans exhibit. He finds his way near the front of the store again and sees the fresh produce from the Urban Farms, locally-grown produce made in the heart of Detroit; despite being half price, the fresh fruits and vegetables are expensive, cheaper than ten years ago but more than what he's comfortable spending on a three-pack of carrots. Would he even _eat_ them, or would they go rotten in the back of his fridge before he even remembered they were there?

 

No wonder grabbing a five-buck special from Arby's was an easier decision than preparing his own goddamn meals. He can hardly recall the last time he cooked, outside of boxed macaroni or ramen noodles. Hell, when's the last time he ate a vegetable _not_ sautéed in salty, fatty sauce?

 

Maybe Nines has a point.

 

He shucks the carrots and bag of precut celery stalks (they were thirty cents less than the whole one) into the basket, and takes his purchases to the checkout before he can change his mind. Paying quickly and muttering thanks to the cashier, he breaks into a nervous sweat halfway across the parking lot. He spots the dark green Mustang and slows, heart pounding.

 

Nines isn't in the car.

 

_What the hell?_

 

Looking around, and dodging out of the way of an automated caravan, Gavin can't see the telltale jacket within range, and frowns as he unlocks the trunk. Dropping the bags in, he slams it back down and slides into the driver's seat, craning his neck to get another look. _Where's Nines?_

 

Starting the engine, he leaves his car idling as he fumbles for his phone in his pocket, and dials the auto-connect. The line opens with a faint static pop, then disconnects abruptly. Gavin's mouth drops open. Did he just _hang up_ on him?

 

“Nines, c’mon…” he growls, trying again. “Don't do this to me.”

 

Before the android can end the call again, Gavin listens for the static noise then says, quickly, “Look, I’m really sorry about what I said. Get your ass to the car before I drive all over the neighborhood to find you.”

 

Silence stretches out awkwardly, and he briefly wonders if the android even heard him. It's awkward and a little stress-inducing.

 

“Detective, I’m on my way to the station,” Nines answers at last. “You were gone longer than I expected, and I didn’t want to impose on-"

 

“I was buying carrots,” Gavin interrupts.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I bought carrots…” he repeats, a little quieter. “And celery. I thought it… well, you said I should buy something healthy, so I did.”

 

Another silence stretches out, but the line doesn't click. He takes it as a good sign. “About what I said… I was an asshole. I didn't mean to say it. I’m… I'm sorry, Nines.”

 

“Very well. Enjoy the rest of your day off, Detective,” Nines responds curtly, and the connection closes. Just like that.

 

Gavin stares down at the phone in his hand, a crushing feeling pressing uncomfortably on his chest, then ends the call. He feels worse, and scrubs his fingernails through his hair, tugging a little. _I’m such a fuck up_ , he thinks bleakly.

 

Throwing the car in reverse, he starts to back out of the parking spot when the passenger door swings open and a six foot plus ball of android lands neatly in the seat and sends Gavin's heart crashing through his ribcage.

 

“ _What_ _the_ _fuck?!_ ” he yells, slamming on the breaks. “I thought you were gone!”

 

Nines glares at him with his grey-blue stare, but a smirk is playing at the corner of his mouth. Gavin hasn't hated him anymore than he does right now.

 

“The hell are you smilin' about, asshole?” he snarls. “Christ almighty, you're gonna give me a heart attack one day, you know that? And don't think I don't know you'll be smiling about that, too.”

 

“Detective Reed, should you perish in the line of duty, I would find the event to be very unfortunate,” Nines corrects, but the smirk hasn't faded. “I would miss your stupid face more than any officer in the precinct, I assure you.”

 

 _That's reassuring_ , Gavin thinks privately and not without sarcasm. Still, he's admittedly relieved to see the tin can, and redirects his focus on pulling out of the lot in, preferably, one piece.

 

Once on the highway and speeding off towards home, Nines adds, “Perhaps in the future, we can avoid these arguments if you choose to listen to me more often?”

 

It's not a request; it's a declaration of truce, of agreeing to accept Gavin's apology. He hesitates, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, gliding into the turning lane that’ll take him home. Does he even deserve it, after the way he's treated Nines for months, with hostility and confrontation at every opportunity?

 

Probably not, but here the android is, offering him yet another chance anyways. Damned if he doesn't seize it with both hands.

 

“Only if you don't make me buy decaf,” he says, sparing a quick glance at the passenger side. The ring on Nines’ temple swirls yellow, then steadies to a calm blue, and he smiles.

 

“Agreed.”

 

 


End file.
